


Weeks

by jenish (phizzle)



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-11
Updated: 2006-06-11
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/jenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For tricksterquinn.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> For tricksterquinn.

It was hot, and sticky in the press of bodies. Gerard couldn't even imagine what all the kids out there watching would be feeling, but back here with the bands, there was equipment and small spaces and flimpsy tent material and buses and all of it coated with hot, sticky, blinding sunlight. As if magnetically drawn by any breaking of the glare, people were drawn to each other; maybe it was the static.

"Hey." Bert's hand on his arm and the sweat was trickling down the back of his neck. It was only ten in the fucking morning.

"You want to find some shade?" Gerard asked, not even turning to look.

"Fuck yeah." Bert's hand slid down his arm and passed to his back pocket. Gerard smiled, hot hand against his skin through denim, and everything was hot. He shook his hair out of his eyes, but it still stuck to his forehead.

They found a place between two buses that was almost cool. The sun reflected, but they found a spot where it didn't reflect right into their retinas, and Gerard leaned against the bus. "Fuck, it's hot."

Bert waved the hand that hadn't been groping Gerard. There was a water bottle in it. "What will you do to get this from me?"

"The question is what _won't_ I do?" He eyed it greedily.

Bert stepped closer. "Could save a question like that for when I don't feel like I'm going to fucking die."

"Bert." Gerard leaned closer, a few more inches and he'd have to squint again, but he stayed on the right side of the shade. Three fucking weeks of this so far, _three weeks_, and he suspected his feet had adhered to his shoes. _Why the fuck does Warped have to be in the fucking summer?_ he thought, watching Bert's mouth.

Bert kissed him; if it can be called kissing when he grabs at your mouth with his _teeth_, and Gerard kissed back, and their bodies were pressed together, hot, against the buses, and – and there was something cold, something, _oh God_ – Gerard pulled away and turned his face upwards because Bert was pouring the water over their heads. Bert caught his mouth again, and Gerard tasted him, and he could fucking get used to this.


End file.
